i must have been asleep for days (and moving lips to breathe her name)
by danahscott
Summary: Either Bellamy had finally lost it and was hallucinating some blonde control freak in a red dress, or ghosts were real. Strangely enough, neither of those options sounded particularly desirable. Or, Bellarke Just Like Heaven AU because I have no self control.


The night that changed everything started like most of Clarke's nights: with the tail-end of a twenty three hour shift at the hospital. Dr. Jaha let Finn scrub in for a bullet wound instead of her at the end, which normally would have pissed her off. But tonight, she was informed she got the attending slot she'd been vying for since her first day. It was a gamble not to use her mom's connections, but it paid off in the end, and now she beat Finn out using much less seedy methods than he had. Clarke was over the moon.

But now, when all she wanted to do was go home, relax and get some much needed shut-eye, she was in a slinky red dress she'd bought ages ago and never worn, driving in the opposite direction of her apartment. She'd promised Raven to go to this stupid blind date with some guy Raven's boyfriend had a mutual friend with. And now, she was running very late. She hoped this dude didn't mind under-eye bags because she was exhausted. Actually, she didn't even realize how exhausted she'd was. When was the last time she slept? Her phone buzzed, with a text from Raven reporting that not only was she late, but her date was late, too. _Match made in heaven?_

Clarke groaned, rubbing her eyes blearily and turning the volume up on the radio. Anything to keep her awake. There was a song with some soft guitar and a whiny singer's voice that was going to put her right to sleep, so she fumbled with stations for a minute before settling on the classic rock one, blinking the tiredness out of her eyes. But when she looked out at the road, all she saw were the bright headlights of a truck getting precariously close, until all Clarke could see was white light flooding her vision. And then - nothing.

 **-::-::-::-::-::-::-**

Bellamy's real estate agent had just about had it with him. Bellamy didn't think he was being too picky - he just wanted an apartment with a nice view and a comfy sofa. All he wanted to do was start over, leaving the past two years of grieving behind him. Everything his agent had shown him was either too fancy, too avant garde, or too big. It was just him. He didn't want to be reminded of all the extra space a home could have when someone was no longer inside it. That's why he left.

So when he stumbled across an apartment looking out over the entire city with a sofa so comfortable he could live in it, he was pleased. His agent warned him against it - it was a month-to-month sublet, not a year's rent, but Bellamy didn't care. Everything was temporary, anyway. If this tiny apartment could offer a few months of comfort, then Bellamy would consider himself lucky.

Plus, whoever it was that had lived here had good taste.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

By the time he spent a weekend in his new apartment, it was already a wreck. Because Bellamy hated himself, all he'd done since moving in was order Chinese and watch the home videos from his wedding with Gina. At least he'd reached the point where he didn't cry every time her face popped up on screen. So props to that milestone.

But for now, he paused the tape. He was out of beer. Bellamy walked to the fridge and grabbed another can, grimacing at the contents. Beer and leftovers. Well, he'd have to get his act together sometime, but for now, he was fine with wallowing.

As Bellamy turned to head back to the couch, he heard a scream. Instinctively, he screamed, too. There was some hot blonde chick standing in the middle of his new living room. All Bellamy could think to say was, "What?"

When the girl spoke, her voice was calm and rational, yet tinged with panic. "The only thing worth taking here is the television. I don't have any cash or any drugs."

"What? I'm not stealing anything."

The girl blinked. She seemed to be reassessing information. "There's a homeless shelter down the street. I can give you some money for dinner, just promise you won't spend it on more beer, alright?" She gestured to the dozen empty cans of beer sitting on the table. Which, admittedly, was a lot, but it was a whole weekend's work.

But Bellamy just shook his head, trying to refocus on the matter at hand. "I'm not homeless. I live here."

The girl just tilted her head, almost sympathetically, and Bellamy felt resentment harden in his chest. Maybe he should call the police. "No, you don't. This is my apartment."

"What? Since when?"

"Since I rented it."

"Since you - since - you've got to be kidding me."

"What?" The girl was starting to look a little less wary of him. Oh, fuck Bellamy's life. Of course this apartment was such a good deal. Rent scam.

"I bet they gave five other people keys and had them pay their deposits. I can't believe this."

The girl was quiet for a minute. "And let them move in all their things?"

"This apartment came pre-furnished." It sounded like a weak excuse, even to him - which it shouldn't! Because this was his apartment!

The girl had that pitying look again. "This is my couch. And my coffee table, which you've let your beer cans make rings on. Don't you use coasters? Or trash cans?" She huffed, blowing past Bellamy towards the bathroom.

"I'm getting some Lysol and you are wiping the table down, I don't care who you think you are," she said, turning the corner and out of sight.

"Sorry, when did you say you moved in?" Bellamy asked, following her in. But when he stepped inside the bathroom, no one was there. "Hello?" Silence. He was starting to feel even more uneasy than before. He stepped back into the living room. Nothing. He called out again, only to be met with more silence.

The hall was empty too. He put in a new lock that night.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

Bellamy didn't see her again until he was getting out of the shower, just a flash of blonde in the mirror, yelling at him. "I thought I told you to leave!"

When he turned around, no one was there. Great. So now he was hallucinating too. As if life couldn't get any worse. After losing everything else there was to lose, Bellamy was losing his mind. He didn't know what to do, but he thought being alone with his thoughts wasn't the best idea, so he called Miller.

They met at some bar Bellamy had never been to - moving to the city was Miller's idea. He thought it would be good for Bellamy to get away from the memory of Gina, and that maybe it would help to have some friends around. He was elated when Bellamy called him first to go out, which he explained over a beer.

"I was gonna give you some time, you know, to get settled in, get used to the idea of living alone, and then I thought I'd call you, but -"

"Look, Miller," Bellamy interrupted. "I called you for a reason." He cleared his throat while Miller waited in expectant silence, knowing that once he said this, there was no taking it back. He was already the weird shut-in to all of his friends, and this was just going to confirm all their worst fears. Hopefully Miller wouldn't tell Octavia. "I've sort of been… seeing someone."

"Good for you, man! It's healthy to get back into the field."

"No, I mean I've been seeing someone who isn't actually there."

"... Like emotionally unavailable?" Miller asked. Bellamy was silent, sloshing the beer around in his bottle. "Oh, you mean like a hallucination." The words hung heavy in the air for a long moment. "It's not Gina, is it?" Bellamy sucked in a sharp breath at the sound of her name, but he managed to shake his head. "But it's a she."

"Yep. Never seen her before in my life."

"Is she hot?" Miller said.

Bellamy glared at him, but in his head, he was thinking about her cheeks flushing pink when she yelled at him about coasters, and how her dress accentuated her curves and - oh god, he was not turned on by a hallucination, that would really be the final line for his sanity.

"Okay, sorry," Miller conceded, "but how drunk were you when this happened?"

Bellamy shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant."I only had a few beers." Miller wasn't having it. "Okay, fine, I was wasted, but I've been wasted for the past year, practically, and I've never seen a blonde control freak running around my apartment, so shoot me if I think something's wrong." He was about to swallow another swig of beer, and then he thought better of it. He definitely didn't want to see that girl again. He didn't want to have to confront what that meant - if it meant anything at all. "It's fine," Bellamy mumbled, "I'll just lay off the drinking."

"No way. You stop drinking and you'll just been some weird recluse-loner type that all the kids in your building start telling weird stories about because he never actually leaves his house." Miller's face softened a little. "Bellamy, it's been two years. It's time to stop hiding out."

"I'm not hiding out. And what about the girl I'm seeing, how would that help me get rid of her anyway?'

"Beats me. Maybe she's not a hallucination. Maybe she's a ghost," Miller said, laughing.

After some hesitation, Bellamy joined in. He might be going crazy, but he wasn't that far gone yet.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

His apartment was quiet for the next few days. God, maybe he'd overreacted. Maybe he really had just gotten too drunk that night. He was getting better at staying away from wallowing, though he was doing a miserable job at staying away from the booze. But he was stone cold sober when he heard her voice again: "What are you doing?"

"Oh, not again." He was lying on the bed, just about to take a nap. Luckily, he'd kicked his shoes off, or else he was sure she'd get on him for wearing sneakers in bed, like he was prone to do.

"I didn't want to have to do this, but I'm calling the police." He snuck a glance at her - same as ever, same outfit, too. He grabbed the pillow and shoved it over his face.

"This isn't real. I'm sleeping. I'm just asleep."

"How are you even getting in?"

"You don't exist. Leave me alone."

There was a long silence, and he thought maybe he'd gotten rid of her, but then he heard a deep, frustrated sigh and knew she was still there. Of course his hallucination hated him. His self-loathing must be hitting an all time low. "This is more serious than I thought." She sat down on the edge of the bed. "Has your alcohol consumption gone up recently? Answer honestly."

"Yeah, maybe. Why does it matter?"

"Are you seeing things that aren't really there?"

"You could say that," he said, finally rolling over to face her. She was doing that fake-concerned look from the other day.

"Are you finding yourself getting paranoid or suspicious?"

"What's with all the questions?" God, for a hallucination, this chick was really judgy.

The girl pressed her lips together impatiently. "I need you to listen to me very carefully. You have created a very convincing fantasy that you have rented an apartment, which, in fact, does not belong to you."

Okay, Bellamy was losing it. Now his fantasy was trying to convince him he was having a different fantasy. He backed away toward the headboard, not caring if he looked frightened.

"Grab that pillow," she told him, pointing to his left. "Turn it over. There's a little stain in the left hand corner from when I spilled cough syrup." Skeptically, Bellamy obeyed. And yes, there it was, a little brown splotch.

"How did you know that?"

Her face softened a little bit, into something less resembling judgment, and more resembling pity. Bellamy didn't know which one he disliked more. "The same way I know these sheets are from Macy's. There's a receipt in the drawer." He didn't need to open it to check. He could just tell she was right. She was strange, but she didn't seem like a liar. Actually, she seemed like the type of person who knew what she was talking about. "Sir, you need to come to terms with the fact that you may be mentally ill."

Honestly? It made sense. Bellamy knew he hadn't been all there recently. Maybe there was something wrong with him, maybe he wasn't hallucinating at all. God, it would be so nice for this to be taken out of his hands for a while. He just wanted to be allowed to shut himself away somewhere. "Are you sure?" he asked her, half wanting it to be true. At least he wouldn't have to confront whatever… this was.

"Yes. I know the same way I know that that's my pillow, and these are my sheets, and that's my… Hey, where's my picture?"

"What?"

"I had a picture right here! It was just here, what did you with it?"

"What picture? There was no picture when I moved in."

"For the last time, you didn't move in, you - you know what? I don't care anymore. I'm calling the cops."

"No, don't do that!"

The girl reached for the phone, and this was where Bellamy decided he wasn't crazy after all. Her hand swiped through the phone, like a ghost's in a bad movie. She furrowed her brow, clearly surprised. "What did you do to my phone?" she asked him, but for the first time, she sounded unsure.

"I didn't do anything."

She reached for it again, and her hand passed straight through it like air. When she looked at him, he could almost detect a trace of fear in her eyes. "I think…" she started, backing away from the phone like it could attack her, "I think I'm gonna use the phone in the kitchen."

Then, with a purpose, she turned on her heel and headed for the bedroom door, but she faded before she got through the door frame. Okay. Either Bellamy was cracking up in a different way than he thought or Miller was right and ghosts were real.

 **-::-::-::-::-::-::-**

Bellamy tried to remember what his real estate agent had told him about the apartment. He remembered her saying something about a tragedy in the family of the previous owners, which, yeah, led him to believe this blonde chick was dead. But it was a month-to-month sublet, which - well, that might not mean anything.

Clearly, this ghost had some unfinished business. And Bellamy had had enough haunting the past two years. This wasn't how he wanted to start out his new life. So, though he felt ridiculous doing it, Bellamy found his way over to some occult bookstore Miller told him about. It took all of two minutes for him to realize he had absolutely no idea what to look for.

He was somewhere in the middle of the UFOlogy section before the kid from the front desk found him. "Hey," he whispered, as if Bellamy was some sort of confidant. He had longish brown hair and a young looking face. "I'm Jasper. How can I help you?"

"Uh," Bellamy scratched the back of his head, feeling more embarrassed by the second. "I don't know, do you have anything on… ghosts?"

Jasper's face lit up. "Have you had an encounter? What kind? I've got a killer seance book if you're looking to communicate with the spirit."

"Communication isn't really her problem."

Jasper clapped a hand to Bellamy's shoulder as if they were long-time friends, leading him into the "Other World" section. "I think I have exactly what you need."

 **-::-::-::-::-::-::-**

Which was how Bellamy found himself sitting in the window seat of his new apartment, reading dumb rhymes from a seance book. "Spirit, have no fear, spirit, spirit… appear?" He looked around. "Are you, uh, are you here?" Nothing. "Okay, you know what, I have a mug of hot tea, and it's just dripping with condensation, and I am going to set it down on your nice mahogany table with no coaster in sight -"

"Don't even think about it!" And there she was, standing in the same red dress she was always wearing, eyebrows furrowed in an attempt to be authoritative, and though this was an extremely undesirable situation, Bellamy couldn't help but smile, just a little bit.

"There you are. We need to talk."

"You think?"

It was his turn to ask condescending questions. He'd be lying if he said he didn't revel in it, just a little. "Have you noticed anything… off about your lifestyle recently?"

"Hm. Maybe the strange man who keeps breaking into my apartment!"

"I'm not -" he huffed, changing tactics. "Okay, my name is Bellamy Blake. What's your name?" Chapter five of the seance book. Connecting with the spirit. Funnily, he was pretty sure this wasn't what the book meant.

He stood up, causing the girl to take a few steps back. She looked wary now, unsure of herself. He felt bad. Actually, Bellamy kinda wished she'd go back to before. "Um… My name is…." She peered over at something behind him, and then flashed a smile that didn't really reach her eyes. "I'm Clarke."

Bellamy turned around. That was the name written on the corner of the mug. "You read that."

The girl - Clarke - just crossed her arms. "I think I know my own name."

"When is the last time you spoke to someone?"

"We're speaking right now!"

"Other than me, princess. I mean, what do you do with the rest of your day? When you're not here?"

"Princess?" She was still backing away, she still looked kind of afraid, but the fire was back in her eyes. "Well, I don't sit around getting drunk and watching TV."

"This isn't about me right now. We did that yesterday, remember? Try and think. Has anything dramatic happened to you recently?"  
"What are you talking about?"

Bellamy took a breath, feeling himself soften a little. Because underneath all the bravado, she really did look a little scared. "I'm talking about dying."

Her eyes widened, but she looked more like she was faking surprise. "Dying? That's not possible."

"Look, Clarke," he said, trying to put a comforting hand on her shoulder, but his hands passed right through her and she jerked away before he could try again.

"Don't touch me! I don't even know you!"

"Okay, princess -"  
"Princess?" she said again.

"Yeah, princess! I'm just trying to help you. Do you see a light?" Bellamy was only half joking. "Walk into the light. Just walk into the light, Clarke."

"There's no light. I'm not dead! If I were dead, then I'd know, okay?"

Bellamy took a deep breath, looking at her hard. "Hey, Clarke?" Her eyes flicked up towards him. "If you're not dead, then how are you standing in the middle of the table?"

He regretted it as soon as he said it. Her lip trembled a bit, and she looked really freaked out. All he could see was her torso up, since she was apparently floating? She looked so real to him, though. Bellamy wanted to say something, but what could he say to make this better for her? "But I can't be - I'm not dead, I - Fuck. My head hurts." Slowly, she moved from the table and sat down at the window seat, her head in her hands.

He went to sit down next to her, but after a glare, he thought better of it. "I'm really sorry. But it's not my fault you're… the way that you are. I just want you out of my house."

"You get out," she said evenly, trying to stare him down. But Bellamy was never one to back down from a challenge. Finally, she looked away. "I'm not leaving," she said, not exactly triumphing, but not surrendering either. This was going to be an interesting couple of days.

 **-::-::-::-::-::-::-**

It started with her waiting cross-legged on the toilet while he was showering. Now, Bellamy wasn't usually one for excessive modesty, but in this case, he figured it was better to start showering in his bathing suit.

Then Clarke started taking advantage of her ghostly powers, like being able to float in the middle of all the shelves in the fridge and taunt him every time he went back for another beer. When she started singing off-key at the top of her lungs while he was trying to watch a football game, Bellamy decided enough was enough.

"I tried to be nice," he said, "but that's it. I'm getting you _out_ of here."

 **-::-::-::-::-::-::-**

So, the next few days, he tried everything. A priest willing to exorcise demons, a group that Bellamy can only describe as a supernatural cult, and a real-life bunch of Ghostbusters. He wasn't usually a superstitious person, but he'd never believed in ghosts before either, so at this point, he was willing to try anything.

But not only was Clarke still there, she mocked him the entire time, and made him mop up the holy water the priest tried flicking at her. As a last resort, Bellamy decided to call Jasper, who was elated to be of service, though his methods were a bit underwhelming compared to the shitstorm that Bellamy dragged through his apartment the past few days.

He was just sitting there. Sipping a Diet Coke.

"Bellamy, he's probably just using you for the free drink," Clarke said.

"Will you be quiet?" Bellamy whispered.

"Will _you_ get it into your head that this is all for nothing? Since God has a seriously twisted sense of humor, you're the only one who can hear me."

"I'm sensing a presence," Jasper said, looking at Bellamy over his soda can.

"Very original," Clarke muttered.

"A hostile presence," he clarified. Clarke snorted, but remained quiet, eyes narrowing. "She wants you out of here." Clarke tilted her head, considering him. For a few moments, no one spoke. Finally, Jasper broke the silence, "Yeah, dude, you should move."

"What? _I_ should move?" Bellamy spluttered.

"I would if I were you."

"I like him," Clarke said.

"Hey, I didn't ask you," Bellamy said to her, then turned back to Jasper. "Why should I move?"

"Dude, you've got this otherworldly vessel of hate blasting spite straight into you. Your aura is already bad enough."

"The kid has a gift," Clarke said again, laughing a little bit.

"It's not that good an apartment, anyway," Jasper said.  
"What?" Bellamy and Clarke both said at the same time.

"It has a view!" Clarke said.

"And a fireplace." Bellamy finished, realizing too late that Jasper could only hear one half of his conversation. Jasper just shrugged and crushed the soda can in his hand.

"Do you have another Coke I can drink?"

 **-::-::-::-::-::-::-**

Bellamy hoped that Clarke would let him and Jasper have a few minutes alone, but he should've known better. "Look," he whispered, as Jasper chugged another can, "can't you just… tell her to move on? Go to the light or something?"

"There is no light!" Clarke said.

"She won't accept that she's dead. Really, I'm just trying to help her. I told her, 'Go to the light.'"

Clarke groaned, leaning against the counter. "God, you're so infuriating. How many times do I have to tell you, I don't see a goddamned light!"

"Wait," Jasper said, "what?" But Clarke ignored him.

"Do you think I like this?" she said. "Do you think this is easy for me? My head hurts all the time, I'm literally walking through walls, and I'm stuck talking to you all day every day! Something just isn't right. If I was dead, I would know."  
Bellamy sighed again. As annoying as she was, he kind of wanted her to be right. But he also wanted her to get out.

"Hey, Bellamy?" Jasper said, taking a step closer to him. "I don't think I can help you. Your spirit isn't going anywhere, okay? This is one of the most alive ghosts I've dealt with. I think… I think I agree with her. I don't think she's dead."

Clarke almost crumpled in relief. "Thank you. God, finally. Thank you."

Jasper set his hand on Bellamy's shoulder and Bellamy resisted the urge to shrug it off. "But I meant what I said about your aura. You're under this dark cloud - you've got to fix it, man. You've got to let her go."

"But you just told me she's not leaving."

"No, not the spirit. The one in here." And then, Jasper pressed his hand to Bellamy's heart and Bellamy flinched. No. He didn't want to think about this. Actually, Clarke had been an almost welcome distraction from the pain. He'd felt more free of his grief than he had since Gina died.

"I don't want to talk about that."

From somewhere far away, he heard Clarke laughing. "Oh my god, you were dumped, weren't you?"

Bellamy felt his insides start to harden. His jaw was clenched when he turned to her. "Shut up."

"Oh, okay, so you can dish it out but you can't take it? She probably dumped you for someone who wasn't getting drunk off their ass all the time."

"You don't know what you're talking about, Clarke."  
"You get the Ghostbusters and the mediums in here to try and banish me from _my apartment_ , and I talk about you getting dumped one time -"

"Shut the hell up!" And then, before anyone could say another word about Gina, he stormed into his bedroom - before realizing that it was also Clarke's bedroom, and headed for the roof. For once, he hoped she'd just let him alone.

 **-::-::-::-::-::-::-**

Clarke smirked as Bellamy left. Admittedly, she felt a little bad for making him upset, but she was happy to finally have gotten all the way under his skin. But Jasper just turned vaguely in her direction and said, "Hey, I don't know what you said to him, but try and show some respect for the dead."

The dead? Oh. Oh, god. She was such an idiot. Jasper gave a smile and a nod, said, "Good luck, spirit girl," and then headed out the door. But Clarke wasn't even listening to him. She was already going after Bellamy.

 **-::-::-::-::-::-::-**

She found him on the roof. "Bellamy? I'm sorry. I'm - I'm really sorry. I guess I'm just now realizing I don't know you that well." She tried a laugh but it sounded clumsy to her. "The view's really nice, but I got the apartment for the roof. I was gonna… I was gonna do a whole garden up here, but I never got around to it. Isn't that funny? I can't remember my last name, but I can remember my gardening ambitions." His back was still turned to her. "Sorry, I'm rambling." She took a few hesitant steps toward him. "People dealing with grief often find it therapeutic to talk about it with someone -"

"I don't want to talk about it," Bellamy said, wheeling around, half-shouting. Clarke wasn't scared off.

"Anger helps, too," she said. Bellamy turned back around and Clarke sighed, still feeling guilty as hell. "Who was Jasper talking about?"

"Gina. Her name was Gina."

"And Gina was…"

Bellamy brushed past her, as if she wasn't even there. But before he went down the staircase, she could hear him say, "Gina was my wife."

 **-::-::-::-::-::-::-**

Bellamy didn't know where he was headed at first, but it only figured that he'd find his way to a bar. He'd ran out of beer the night before, anyway, and whenever he felt like this, his first instinct was to drink. It was the same bar from a week and a half ago, and he could see Miller in there, laughing at chatting up some hot dude. Bellamy wanted to go inside and forget. He just wanted to feel anything other than this. But as he reached for the handle, he saw a small hand guarding it.

He knew that if he reached through her fingers, he'd be able to get in fine, but the sight of Clarke there stopped him anyway. This was the first time he'd seen her outside of their apartment. "Bellamy," she said, in a low voice, "this isn't gonna help."

"Why do you care?" he said, and he found himself wanting to know the answer. Why on earth did she give a shit whether he drank himself to death or not? All she wanted was him out of the house. But Clarke just pressed her lips tightly together and turned to walk toward a bench across the street. She didn't even look behind her to see if Bellamy was following, but she seemed to have confidence that he was.

She took her time walking, but eventually she made it there and sat down, and after a hesitant glance at the bar, Bellamy sat down on the opposite end. They were silent for a long moment. Finally, Bellamy asked, "Clarke, why are you still here?"

She didn't look at him. "If I knew, trust me, I'd tell you. Why are you the only one who can see me?"

Bellamy let out a long, low breath. "Beats the hell out of me."

"Great. Glad we pooled all our information together." For a second, they both laughed, though neither of them actually found the situation very funny. But it felt good to laugh, to let it out for just a moment. Clarke was the first to quiet. "I'm… I'm kind of scared."

Bellamy slid his eyes toward her. She looked almost glowing in the moonlight, but even so, she looked real, like if he reached out and touched her, she'd be solid in his hands. He wished he could comfort her that way; he'd never really been good with emotions.

"Bellamy," she said again, and her voice caught. _Please don't cry_ , Bellamy thought, _please don't cry_. "It's like - I don't even exist when I'm not with you. Please don't go away again."

"I don't think I could if I tried. But we can't go on like this forever, so what do you want to do?"

"I don't know. I don't know anything anymore. God, maybe I _am_ dead."

"No, Clarke. Jasper said you weren't. I'm sorry I said you were." He didn't realize until he said it, but he found himself hoping more and more that he was right.

"You have a point, though," she said. "If I just knew something about myself, then maybe I'd be able to figure it out, but all I have is my name - which I read on a mug." She put her fingers to her temples, like her head was hurting. "It's just out of reach, I know it is, but I can't do it by myself."

Without hesitation, Bellamy replied, "You won't be by yourself."

"Thank you. Bellamy, thank you." The park was empty and it was just them sitting at this bench together - just him to literally anyone else watching. Bellamy was glad that it was late at night so no one was around to see him talking to himself. Clarke seemed to be thinking the same thing. "Do you still think you're crazy?"

"No," he replied without hesitation. "My imagination could never be as vivid as you are, princess."

 **-::-::-::-::-::-::-**

So, bright and early the next day, Bellamy and Clarke went door to door. Turns out, a lot of old people lived in the building, and almost all of them didn't realize anyone lived in Clarke's apartment at all. Admittedly, that wasn't exactly reassuring. Clarke was starting to think she was a ghost before she died. Bellamy was still insisting that she wasn't dead.

Clarke couldn't help it - she was kind of enjoying this reversal. They were still at odds in a few ways, but they had a common goal now, and the animosity from just the day before had all but vanished.

Number 27 now. Clarke was feeling pretty discouraged, but when the door was opened, there was the youngest person she'd seen all day. Actually, they looked about the same age. Maybe they were friends. Plus, she was hot. Only a bra and leggings, except the bra was one of those push up sports bras, which Clarke thought kind of defeated the purpose of exercise gear but whatever.

"Hey, um, I'm Bellamy, I'm… a new tenant. Did, uh, did you know the woman who used to live in the apartment upstairs?"

Oh, god. Was he babbling?

"Bellamy, your name was? I'm Echo." She flashed a huge smile, and Clarke couldn't help but admire the girl's abs. Nothing about this chick was ringing any bells, though. "I didn't know her, but, uh, she was kind of anti-social. Maybe that's why. Kind of a recluse, you know?"

"Okay," Clarke said, "I guess we're done here." But Echo didn't stop talking.

"You want to come in for a drink of water or something? You look really hot."

Clarke scoffed. "Wow, is she for real?" But Bellamy just smiled and shot Clarke a look. Was he into Echo? After a minute and a half of talking? I mean, not that Echo wasn't super attractive. Clarke's bisexual side was tingling, but wow, this girl was a little… forward.

"I'd like to help, but, um, I have dinner plans tonight, so…" Right. He was helping her. Maybe Clarke could be a bit nicer to him if he had a crush. She didn't really know why it was bothering her so much.

But then, Echo leaned in and said in a husky voice, "Well, stop by later if you want dessert," and then winked. Like, actually winked. And Bellamy was eating it up!

"Nice to meet you, Echo."

"You too, Bell."

The door shut and already Clarke was headed down the stairs, away from whatever _that_ was. "Bell? Really? I think I threw up a little bit in my mouth."

"What? She seemed nice."

"Nice is one word for it."

"Shit. I left the key in the apartment."

"I keep a spare under the fire extinguisher."

"Ah, thanks. Anyway, why are you so bothered by her? She wasn't that much different from the other people we talked to," Bellamy said, swinging the door open to their apartment. Funny. Clarke was actually starting to think of it as theirs.

"It's not her," Clarke lied. "Maybe it's the fact that no one seems to even know what I looked like."

Bellamy groaned, reaching for a beer in the fridge. "We'll figure something out."

"Are you sure you want to drink that?"

"Just tell me where the bottle opener is, Princess."

"Second drawer on the left." He went to open it and then paused. Clarke took a step closer to him. "What, Bellamy?"

"An address. And a dry cleaning receipt."

Clarke took a few steps closer to him until she was leaning over his shoulder. "Does this mean…?"

Bellamy grinned, abandoning the beer on the counter. "We have a lead."

 **-::-::-::-::-::-::-**

They went to the dry cleaning store first, with no success. Not only had the guy already given away her pants, but when Bellamy asked, he described Clarke as lonely and solitary solely based on her "energy." Again with the recluse thing! What was her deal? What kind of person had she been?

But Clarke was really holding her breath for the address. That was the best chance they had at figuring out who she'd been. If it didn't pan out, Clarke didn't know what she'd do.

The house didn't look familiar, and when Bellamy knocked on the door, some old dude in a nice outfit opened up. Bellamy described Clarke and the guy just leaned in and hissed, "Did my wife pay you?" Even as a dead person, Clarke could smell his breath. "I knew she'd find out. Whatever she offered to pay you, I'll double it." Then, he told Bellamy where to meet him and when and promptly slammed the door in his face.  
Bellamy didn't even try to hide the laughter.

"Shut up. I'm not a mistress!"

"That's not what it sounds like, Princess."

"My name is Clarke. And trust me, I couldn't have been that awful. Although, who knows? Maybe I was. Maybe I was just some lonely recluse mistress who never saw the light of day."

Bellamy opened the car door for Clarke, sort of surprising her with this small gesture, especially considering she could walk through walls. But then he said, "Either way, at half past eight, I'm coming into some money!" and she decided to just mumble a thank you.

 **-::-::-::-::-::-::-**

They decided to cut through town on the way home. They walked right past the bench they'd sat on two nights ago, and Clarke remembered how it felt to sit there with him in the moonlight, in the twelve-o'clock silence. It was easier to do that than to listen as Bellamy tried to explain how there was nothing wrong with a healthy sexual appetite. It was a little cute how he was trying to reassure her.

They kept walking past the park and just as they were passing a restaurant, Clarke stopped. She remembered this place. "Bellamy," she said, and then pointed.

"You recognize this place?"

"Polis. Yeah. I love this place."

He pushed the door in for her and was instantly hit with the smell of steak and wine. Clarke frowned. Yeah, she did recognize this place. And it was busy today. From her memory, that was starting to defog a little bit, it was always busy. But it had a homey feel to it, too.

"Did you eat here a lot?" Bellamy asked.

"Yeah…" But that wasn't right. "Actually, no, I didn't. I kept looking inside wishing I could."

"What was stopping you?"

"Nothing," she said, walking in a little further. "I just never got around to it, I guess. God, maybe dry-cleaning guy is right." She turned around then, ready to go. She really wanted to get out of here. Nobody knew her, and from the few people who could say anything at all only described her as lonely, or antisocial or even "a cat lady without cats" at one point. Now, she might be somebody's mistress. And she was dragging Bellamy through this whole mess. Bellamy had just pushed the door open, triggering the little bell on the handle when there was a really loud crash behind them.

When Clarke turned around, there was an older man lying still on the ground, a broken plate to his side. Instantly, there was a swarm of people surrounding him, taking his pulse. Someone was calling 911. She and Bellamy stood there a minute, shell-shocked.

And then, like a lightbulb being switched on, something came to Clarke. "Check if his chest is bloated."

"What?" Bellamy said, looking at her.

"Just do it! See if you can feel his ribs," she said, running through people to get to the guy. Bellamy was right behind her, shoving through the crowd. He didn't question her, he just did what she said. Actually, in a crisis, Bellamy wasn't bad. He flinched a little when Clarke asked him to make an incision, because really, how did she know any of this? How was Bellamy sure he wouldn't make it worse? But when Clarke asked him to trust her, he did it unquestioningly.

And then something very, very familiar happened: when the man started breathing again, a tingle of triumph in Clarke's chest flared up. Clarke knew that feeling - Clarke had experienced it many times before.

"I'm a doctor!"

"What? Really? Hey, sir," Bellamy said, interrupting the waiter who was thanking him, "where's the nearest hospital?"

"Arkadia Medical. A few blocks down."

 **-::-::-::-::-::-::-**

Clarke wanted to cry. It finally made sense, everything made sense. Maybe she was an antisocial homewrecker, but she saved lives. That had to count for something. And when she walked into the hospital, she knew it was where she belonged. She knew this place. All these faces were pushing by her, and she recognized all of them. Everything was returning. She was so overwhelmed, she didn't even notice Bellamy talking to the receptionist. To Maya.

"Do you mean Clarke Griffin?" Maya said, averting her eyes. That's right, Maya hated giving bad news to people. Clarke's stomach sank. "Dr. Griffin… isn't on our service right now. Let me get someone to talk to you."

"Shit. Oh, god, please, no."

"What? Clarke, what's wrong?"

"Maya always passes this stuff onto someone else. She hates telling people their friend died."

"Hey, we don't know what she's gonna say yet. Just hang on." Turned out Clarke had to hang on a little bit longer as she was transferred to the next floor. When she saw Byrne, Clarke wanted to throw her arms around her neck. Not that she'd ever really liked Byrne that much, but any familiar face was a comfort to Clarke.

Byrne didn't beat around the bush. Clarke had liked that about her. "Before we go any further, I need to know your relationship with Dr. Griffin?"

"We were intimate," was the first thing Bellamy said. If Clarke had solid arms, she'd have smacked him.

"Intimate… how, exactly?

""We were together. Like, you know, dating." Bellamy cleared his throat and Clarke wished she was still alive just so she could die all over again from embarrassment. She saw Byrne quirk her eyebrow in surprise. Again, she remembered the recluse thing, but that was only because she spent all of her time here. And really, when you've worked a twenty-two hour shift, you're not going to go home and socialize, now, are you?

"That's funny. She didn't seem like the type to… It's just, Clarke's whole life was her work."

That stopped Clarke and Bellamy at the same time. "Was?" Bellamy said, voice sounding strangely hoarse, "Did you say was?"

"I'm sorry, were you… were you unaware of the accident?"

As if ashamed, Bellamy looked down, and Clarke felt herself grow a degree colder, as if she'd put one foot in the grave. He didn't look at her when he said, "I've been away."

In the soothing doctor voice Clarke found so familiar, Byrne began to explain what Clarke already remembered. Three months ago, the truck, the headlights, the blaring horn. Even the stupid date she was supposed to be going on, which would explain the red dress she was wearing.

Everything started fading away, and for a moment, Clarke wondered if she was dying all over again, but then she found herself in front of a door. Her heartbeat was pounding in her ears - but was it hers? It had to be. Somehow, pushing through this hospital door felt like crossing some barrier she couldn't uncross. But there was no way she'd turn around now. The only way forward was through.

 **-::-::-::-::-::-::-**

When Bellamy realized Clarke was no longer next to him, he couldn't fight the panic creeping up in his throat. What if she was gone? What if, just like that, he'd never see her again? But he couldn't explain that to the doctor, so he just followed her to the room where she said he could see Clarke.

The first thing he saw was Clarke standing over herself, eyes wide. As soon as the door shut, he allowed himself to speak. "Oh my god, don't do that again. I thought - I thought you…" He trailed off when he got a better look at the body in the bed. At _Clarke's_ body.

"It's you. We found you - and you're alive."

Clarke didn't look up at him. "I guess you could call it that."

"A coma is way better than dead." He couldn't tear his eyes away from her - not the Clarke he was used to seeing, but this one, with her eyes shut, lying limp in a hospital bed. Despite the circumstances, she looked… good. "Your body is healing. There's no scars, you've got some color in your cheeks, you look pretty." He hadn't meant to say the last bit. But it kind of slipped out.

"It's been three months, Bellamy. How I look doesn't mean anything. I've tried slipping back into my body, but you know what? That's the best idea I've got." She slumped down in the chair, dejected.

"Come on, think of something. You're a doctor."

"I've got nothing. It's like I'm not even connected to this body. It's like it's not even me."

She still wouldn't look at him. This was so different than how she'd been when she'd had hope. But for Bellamy, nothing was any worse than it had been before. As long as she was breathing, Clarke Griffin was alive and he had to try and prove that to her. "Clarke, turn around. I want to try something."

Once her back was to him, Bellamy carefully took her body's hand into his. It was a little cold, and completely lifeless, but the ghost Clarke jumped. He dropped her hand. "What was that?" She turned around. "I felt that."

"Not completely disconnected," he said. He moved closer until he was just standing a few inches from her. He wished he could feel her warmth. She looked unsure, but not as despondent as she had a few minutes ago. Maybe that was the best Bellamy could ask for.

"The levels aren't changing," she said. "Actually, they're decreasing."

"Machines don't know everything. If they did, how would we be having this conversation?"

That earned a smile. "You've got me there."

He looked over at the windowsill. Pictures, flowers, cards. It made sense. Whoever Clarke Griffin had been, she was loved. And Bellamy was starting to think he knew who she was. He touched a photograph of Clarke at the beach, smiling, laughing, her hair blonder than ever, her sunglasses slipped down the bridge of her nose. He wished he'd known her then.

"Your doctor friend only gave me a few minutes," he said. "I don't think she trusts me just yet."

Clarke snorted. "She probably just doesn't believe that I had a boyfriend."

"Do you want me to wait in the lobby, then?"

"That's really sweet, Bellamy, but you should go."

He knew what she was saying, but he didn't quite want to believe it. "Then I'll see you back at the apartment?"

"I can't leave myself here. I can't just be talking to you while knowing that I'm really strung up on life support. No, I'm… I'm gonna stay."

Bellamy bit his lip. "It just feels weird, you know, leaving you here alone."

"Thank you for helping me, Bellamy."

He didn't want to make this any harder for her. After all, she'd probably find him when she woke up. She'd kick him out of the apartment like she'd always wanted and they could both share a good laugh over it. But right now, Clarke was looking at him with watery eyes, and he knew that it was time to leave. "Goodbye, Clarke," he said.

"Bye," Clarke whispered back, but Bellamy was already out the door.

 **-::-::-::-::-::-::-**

Clarke was listless once Bellamy left. She paced a lot, tested out her walking-through-walls abilities, eavesdropped on the doctors in the breakroom. But in the end, she just ended up slumped in the chair, trying not to look at herself in the bed. She didn't know how much time passed since he left. It could have been anywhere between twenty minutes and three hours. When Clarke heard the door open, she almost expected it to be him.

The face was just as welcome, though. It was her mom. She was flooded with relief and frustration at the same time. She wanted nothing more than to run and hug her, talk to her, someone she recognized, someone who knew her from before she was a ghost. Instead, Clarke just watched as her mother held her hand and shut her eyes. Weird. She didn't feel anything this time. She felt a tingle when Bellamy touched her.

The sight of her mom so hollow made Clarke almost glad to see Finn walk through the door. Almost. Figured that he'd gotten her job. If one could wake up from a coma out of spite, Clarke would be halfway down the hall by now.

"Dr. Griffin?" he asked. Her mom turned around, taking a few steps closer to Finn. "Dr. Collins. I have some matters to address about Clarke."

Abby stayed silent. That might have been the worst thing, how quiet her mom seemed now. When Clarke was alive, her mom had always had something to say about Clarke. What she was doing wrong, what she needed more of. It wasn't always easy to bear, but it was out of love and Clarke knew that. Now she was waiting patiently for some idiot doctor to tell her what she probably already knew.

"When Clarke was hired here, she had to sign release forms, which basically -"

"Yes, I understand. Get to the point, please," Abby said. That was more like it.

"Were you aware of your daughter's opinion on artificially prolonging life?"

Her mother's voice was a whisper, a mere echo of a word. "Yes." Clarke's insides went cold.

"No," Clarke said, "but that was - that was before - I'm not against it now!"

"And I'm sure you know as well as I do that there is no record of anyone waking up from this type of coma before?"

"No, there has to be," Clarke insisted. "Bellamy said! He said I'd…" Clarke trailed off. The words sounded weak in her mouth. And of course, no one could hear her. She didn't realize how lonely that was. She'd had Bellamy these past few weeks.

"Dr. Griffin," Finn said, and Clarke spared a moment to roll her eyes at his condescension to her mother of all people, the smartest woman Clarke knew. "Clarke did sign a release form. But, because of the… special situation, we won't take any action without your approval.

That was when Clarke saw the papers in Finn's hands. Oh god. "Mom? Mom, please, I'm right here. I'm - I'm not gone. Please, please don't sign those." But Abby didn't flinch. She took the papers with the tips of her fingers, like she was afraid to touch them.

"In my professional opinion," Finn said, "it's better not to prolong the inevitable -"

"Excuse me, but I believe you said it was my decision." Abby cut him off, heading straight out the door. Clarke really, really wished she wasn't a ghost, because she had a feeling punching Finn might feel pretty good right now.

 **-::-::-::-::-::-::-**

Up until recently, having the apartment to himself was all Bellamy had wanted. But now it just felt empty. And too big. Stupidly, he called out her name. "Clarke?" he said, not too loudly. He was met with silence. "Yeah, I guess not."

It was strange. He'd missed having someone to talk to, but it felt like more than that. It felt like loss. He tried not to think of the way she looked in the hospital bed. So still - which was really unlike her. Instead, he tried to think of how she looked when she was yelling at him about coasters. Bellamy couldn't help but smile a little at that memory.

He also slipped a coaster under his glass of water. It was up to him to keep the apartment in good shape for when she woke up now. Things felt too flat. Time was going by slower than it had when she was here. When the doorbell rang, he almost hoped it was her, that she'd already woken up and had come back to reclaim her home.

Instead, he was met with Echo, claiming she'd been locked out. Well, at least he had someone to talk to. And wow, she could really talk. It was only when she excused herself to go to the bathroom, jeans hanging low on her hips, that he got a momentary reprieve.

He was standing in the hallway, wondering if she was ever going to leave when he heard a very familiar sigh behind him. You would think that after weeks living with a ghost he wouldn't jump at every unexpected sound, and yet.

"Clarke!" There she was, same red dress, blonde hair, all five-foot-two of her standing in front of him. He couldn't remember being so happy. "I didn't think…" He struggled to form words. He fought the grin trying to spring out of his face, but the grin was winning out. "I thought you weren't coming back."

Clarke laughed a little, but there wasn't any heart in it. "So did I. But, Bellamy, my mom came and Finn - the doctor - he's trying to get her to terminate life support."

The happiness instantly left him. "What? No. No, they can't do that."

"I tried telling them, but you're still the only one who can hear me. And I just… I wanted to talk to you. I needed -"

"Bellamy?" Echo called from the bathroom. Bellamy could see Clarke's eyebrows shoot up.

"Wow. That didn't take long."

"No, it's not what you think. She's locked out, we're waiting on the locksmith -"

"Hang on, is that hot gym chick from the other day? What's her name?"

"Echo," Bellamy said.

"I'm waiting," she called.

"Is she in the bedroom?" Clarke asked, walking over to the shut door.

"She said she was going to the bathroom!"

"Want me to check her out for you? I've been practicing this whole walking through walls thing."

"I would like nothing less than for you to do that. Honestly, princess, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were jealous."

Clarke looked away, but Bellamy could see her blushing. "You wish."

"Just saying."

The door to the bedroom creaked open, and Echo came out, wearing a towel. In another life, Bellamy would probably have been really into her. She seemed nice enough. But the timing right now was all wrong. "Hey," she said, leaning against the doorway, as if there was nothing strange about being nearly naked in her neighbor's apartment. "Sorry if I'm coming on a little strong here. That's just my style."

Clarke shifted to her other foot, and Bellamy didn't know who to look at. He decided on Echo, considering she was the one speaking, and also considering he was the only one who could see Clarke, so from Echo's perspective, he was probably just really fixated on the bathroom door knob.

"It's just, I hear you sometimes. I'm right under you, you know." For the first time tonight, Echo looked a little nervous. "I just wondered if you were lonely. I know I am. So I thought, what the hell? Is it wrong to want to feel close to someone, just for one night? Is that so bad?"

Clarke bit her lip. "Hey, you should… you should be with her. It's what you both want."

Bellamy was confused. She really didn't get it? "No, it's not."

"Bellamy, she's beautiful. And she's right here, and she wants you. And you can touch her. You don't need a ghost following you around. I'm just going to get in the way."

She brushed past him and before he had time to turn around, she'd vanished. "No, Clarke! Clarke?"

He could hear Echo's voice behind him asking if he was okay. No. He probably wasn't. But the only thing to do right now was get her out of the apartment. So he did. He told her that she was lovely, but probably not right for him, and tried to act surprised when she suddenly found her key in her jacket pocket.

 **-::-::-::-::-::-::-**

Bellamy had a gut feeling that he'd find Clarke on the roof. He did his best to hide his relief when that turned out to be right. She was leaning against the edge, looking out at the city. Without looking behind her, she said, "You work fast, Bellamy Blake, I'm impressed."

"I think we both know nothing happened."

"How'd you get rid of her?"

"I told her I was seeing someone," he said.

"Ha."

"I just didn't mention I was the only person who could." There was a moment of silence, and Bellamy went to the edge next to her. Something about the quiet and the city lights, the cool wind and the sweet-smelling air made Bellamy reminiscent. He was surprised to find tears in his eyes but he didn't fight them. "That was… I haven't been with anyone since…" Bellamy couldn't explain how he knew it was okay to tell Clarke, to share the story that he'd kept so close to his heart for two years with her. But he knew she would understand. And he wanted her to know. "We were going to go on our first proper date night in months. She was trying to get the clasp on her pearls - her grandmother's pearls. They were a family heirloom. A wedding present. And then she was on the ground, holding her head and I couldn't do… anything. I couldn't do a fucking thing."

"Cerebral hemorrhage," Clarke murmured, but Bellamy could tell it wasn't her trying to assert her knowledge, but her trying to understand.

"She was just gone, Clarke. In a minute. I didn't even get a chance to say goodbye. We were laughing just moments earlier and then she was gone before the ambulances came."

"I'm so sorry. Bellamy, I'm so sorry."

"Me too."

Silence, again. He thought she might not say anything, but then, quietly, he heard, "What was she like?"

He found the answers came as simply and easily as they did when Gina was breathing. They weren't too difficult to say anymore. "She loved to dance. And she always forgot to fill up the gas. Once, we ran out on a road right off the highway and we had to push the car half a mile. She smiled a lot. I loved her so much." As if it was just another item on the list about Gina, he found himself saying, with tears still pricking at his eyes, "Your mom wouldn't sign those papers, would she?"

Bellamy could tell Clarke was surprised. "I hope not. I don't know."

"Clarke, I don't know what I'd do if she - If you…" He didn't finish his sentence. He didn't want to say it out loud. Bellamy held his hand out, palm facing up, and gently, Clarke set hers on his, hovering just over it. He could almost pretend it was the real thing.

It was enough for him just to be able to fall back into a comfortable silence with her, though, because right now, she was standing next to him in the pale moonlight, and no one could tell him that Clarke Griffin wasn't the most alive thing he'd ever seen.

 **-::-::-::-::-::-::-**

Bellamy got the call the next day. Clarke was in the kitchen, with a book set out in front of her. She had to call Bellamy to turn the page for her every two minutes, but it was better than nothing. Bellamy knew the call was bad news before he picked up the phone.

It was his real estate agent. He had the apartment. They were going to give him a really long lease. "It's a terrible story, though. The girl who rented before you was in some terrible accident, I hear. Guess they finally decided to pull the plug."

Bellamy hung up without saying anything. He felt pale and shaky. He could see Clarke sitting in the sunlight, a little smile on her face, hunched over a book. No. No way. This wasn't how her story was ending. "Clarke. You have to take me to your mom. Now."

 **-::-::-::-::-::-::-**

Seeing her mom's house again was a cruel reminder that Clarke had skipped the past Thanksgiving and Christmas in favor of working, assuming she'd have plenty more. The way things stood, this was likely to be the last time she ever saw the house. It was a bit of a comfort to realize that she'd just gotten the address wrong, that this was the house she was supposed to go to, not the weird dude with the mistress. Bellamy was tense and quiet in the car ride over. She knew he was scared. She knew he'd lost someone before.

Honestly, he seemed more afraid than she was. It was just unfortunate that he'd be the one to have to talk to her mother. But Bellamy fearlessly rapped on the door. It took a while before her mother answered it. Every part of her looked tired and Clarke could see Bellamy soften a little.

"Mrs. Griffin?" he said.

"Yes, how can I help you?"

"I was a patient of your daughter's. I'd like to talk for a few minutes, if that would be alright."

Abby looked vaguely surprised, but she nodded all the same.

"Clarke was a doctor who… believed I'd get better. She's really important to me. What she did for me, Ma'am, was-"

"I don't understand. Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I know about her situation. I'm here to ask - Actually, I'm here to beg you to please give her more time."

Abby's face crumpled in on itself. "It's too late. I can't - it's too late, anyway."

"What do you mean?" Bellamy asked, panic setting in on his face. Clarke had been surprised at his story. Everything about Bellamy was starting to surprise her. And now her mom was crying, and Clarke wanted nothing more than to be able to comfort her. There was nothing she could do. But she didn't feel as lonely as she did before with Bellamy here.

"I've signed the papers. Life support will be terminated tomorrow at noon. This has been a really hard three months for everyone who loved her. It's the right thing to do."

"Please, Mrs. Griffin. I understand, I really do, but I think you're making a big mistake."

"Look," Abby said, still managing to look firm with watery eyes. "I spent Clarke's entire life trying to control what she did. Where she worked, what she wore, who she dated." At the last three words, Clarke found her eyes drifting towards Bellamy. But she didn't want to think about that now. By the time Abby got to her last few sentences, her voice was wispy and weak, breaking on every other word. "This is what she wanted. And I've decided to honor it. For the first time in my life, I'm going to honor what she wanted."

When Clarke looked away from her mom, she was surprised to see Bellamy crumpling too. "You can't - she doesn't want this. She wants - please, Mrs. Griffin, give her more time -"

Abby straightened her back, and with her mouth set in a firm line, she said, "I'm sorry, but the decision is made. I have to ask you to leave."

"No, please! You can't let Clarke die. She's your daughter, Mrs. Griffin, you can't!"

"Get out!"

 **-::-::-::-::-::-::-**

It took a while for Bellamy to calm down. Clarke thought the best thing to do would be to give him some space to cool off, but as soon as he pulled himself together, he wanted a new plan of action.

"Is there any way your mom -"

"No," Clarke interrupted him. "If Abby Griffin makes up her mind, there's no chance of changing it." He just looked at her, shell-shocked. "She wasn't perfect, but she wasn't too bad either. I would've liked to be a mom, I think."

"You'd make a good one," Bellamy said. Clarke tried to breathe in the spring air, but felt nothing, nothing at all. She was so tired. She'd been fighting this for so long. Maybe it would be peaceful. Maybe it would be like fading away. Her mother had made peace with it. Why couldn't she?

"I guess I'll never know."

"Come on, princess, this can't be it," said the one person who hadn't made peace with it. Who Clarke realized would never be able to make peace with it.

Still, remembering some of their earlier conversations, how easy it had been before she knew what was wrong with her, she couldn't help making fun. "Princess?"

"Sorry, I know you don't like to be called that."

"I'm warming up to it, actually."

Bellamy turned to face her and she could see him falling apart while trying to keep it together at the same time. She could see all of this happening inside of his head. How did she come to know him so well? "Look, I'll go back to the hospital -"

"Bellamy, no -"

"I'll talk to that asshole doctor -"

"Bellamy - "

"Or I'll ambush your mom again -"

"Stop. It's over. It's time," she said, feeling a few tears roll down her cheeks. But just a few. Clarke Griffin wasn't the type of person to give in, not even at her final hour.

Luckily for her, Bellamy wasn't that kind of person either. "There's still one more person who can help us."

 **-::-::-::-::-::-::-**

Bellamy would be lying if he said he thought he'd be seeing Jasper again. But here he was, standing in the stupid occult bookstore as if he was some sort of customer. Though, considering his latest circumstances, maybe the bookstore had some credibility.

"Whoa," Jasper said, as soon as Bellamy reached his desk. "You can't bring that in here!"

"What?" He wasn't holding anything.

"The spirit."

Clarke rolled her eyes, and Bellamy fought the urge to join her. It must be somewhat liberating when no one else can see you judging everyone. "Look, Jasper, you were right. My spirit, she's not dead. She's in a coma, but her mom wants to take her off of life support -"

"Wait, she's not dead? Congrats, ghost lady."

"Her name's Clarke."

"Hang on," Jasper said, a grin forming on his face. "Are you guys getting along?"

Bellamy scratched the back of his head, unsure how to answer that question. "We… acclimated, I guess."

"It's just that your ghost - Clarke, did you say it was? - well, she still has pretty strong feelings for you, but I'm sensing that they stray towards the positive side now."

Bellamy couldn't help himself. "Do they?"

"No! Of course not!" Clarke said.

"Sorry, spirit. Major red aura. I think I've embarrassed her."

Clarke looked down, flustered, and Bellamy found it a little cute. But then she recovered, looking back at him, and said, "Hey, we don't have a lot of time here. Bigger fish to fry."

"Right, so, Jasper, is there… I mean, how do we get her spirit back in her body?"

"That's the wrong question."

"How?" Bellamy asked, suddenly being reminded of how annoying Jasper had been before.

It was strange to see the kid try and act wise, but it had an interesting effect. Despite how Jasper seemed, he clearly knew what he was talking about. And there was a lot on the line here, so Bellamy listened. Really listened. Tried to make things make sense.

"I didn't ask for this gift, you know," Jasper started. "I just have it. And you didn't ask for your ghost girl either."

"So… what? Are you saying I have a gift too?"

"You? No. Definitely not. You're just a normal dude."

"Then what _are_ you saying? Why can I see her when no one else can?"

"Exactly."

Bellamy couldn't fight off the irritation creeping into his voice. "Exactly what?"

"That's the right question."

 **-::-::-::-::-::-::-**

Clarke could tell Bellamy was still brewing with ideas, full of friction and energy. If she let him, he'd fight this forever. "We could go see the author of that seance book I was reading, right? The one from the night we learned your name?"

"Bellamy."

"And what did Jasper mean? He has a point. Why did I lease your apartment? Why was I there to save that guy's life at the restaurant? There's just so much coincidence… If we could just figure it out -"

"Bellamy?" Clarke interrupted him. Sitting on the coffee table was the picture from the hospital. The one that had been missing from her nightstand. "Where did you get this? This was at the hospital."

"Oh." He paused for a long time, before sitting down next to her at the window seat. "I'm sorry. When I left that day, I didn't think I'd ever see you again. I wanted a picture of you. I didn't want to forget what you looked like."

When Clarke spoke, her voice was thick with tears. "Don't be sorry. I see why you like it, I look pretty good." She tried feebly to make a joke.

"Yeah, you look nice. Really happy."

"I _was_ happy. I'd just taken the MCAT. I was freaking out over the scores, so my friend Raven convinced me to go to the beach with her to take my mind off of it. I didn't want to go, but… she's persistent." Clarke laughed, fondly.

"Wish I could have seen you then."

"It doesn't really matter. You know me now. That's probably better, honestly. What was I doing with the rest of my time, Bellamy? Because all I remember is working."

"You were saving lives."

"Yeah. Mine, too. I was saving my life for later. I just always thought there'd actually be a later, you know?"

"Don't say that. We're going to fix this. The author lady, we'll find her and -"

"No. This is my last night, Bellamy, I don't want to spend it crying. I want to spend it with you."

"Fine," Bellamy said, standing up. There were tears in his eyes, but he was smiling. "You want to go to Paris? Rome? Let's do it. Anywhere you want. We can do anything."

Clarke looked at him standing in front of her. So ready to do whatever she wanted, to keep putting his life on hold for her. If she asked him to take her to Antarctica, he'd probably say yes. The look in his eyes - he wanted her to be happy. "There is something I want to do."

And when he whispered, "anything," Clarke knew he meant it.

 **-::-::-::-::-::-::-**

Her last wish didn't involved flying anywhere. She was just lying next to him in their bed. Strangely, she'd starting seeing it as theirs. Not hers. "It's my last theory. It sounded so crazy, so I didn't want to say it. But there's nothing to lose now."

She held out her hand, and he touched his to hers. She could almost feel it. Clarke wanted so badly to know what it felt like to hold him. Whether he had warm hands or cold hands. Clarke would bet they were warm.

"When you held my hand at the hospital, I could feel it. I think if you could ever touch me, like really touch me, I might wake up."

His eyes closed when she said that. Clarke didn't know for sure, but he thought maybe he wanted that to. To be able to hold her.

"I think I know what my unfinished business is, Bellamy."

His eyes opened again. "What?" He said, in a low voice.

"You."

 **-::-::-::-::-::-::-**

Bellamy woke up with the sun shining orange light through the bedroom. He could hear soft birdsong out of the window and he was reminded why the apartment was so wonderful. He made a silent vow to himself to never buy a house unless it had a lot of windows.

It only took him a moment to realize Clarke wasn't in bed next to him. Panic surged through him. "Clarke? Clarke?"

"Right here," she said, sitting in the armchair, looking tired. "Can't sleep, remember?"

"Thank god. I thought you were already gone - what time is it? Clarke, I know what I have to do."

"What?"

"I kept telling you that you were dead, remember? I must have said it a thousand times."

"Trust me, Bellamy, I remember."

"But I was dead, Clarke. I was as good as dead and you -" He fought the urge to mumble the next part, but he didn't, because things like this needed to be said out loud. "You saved me. And it's my turn to save you."

"We tried everything, though."

"Not everything. This might sound crazy, but I need you to bear with me." He was sliding on his shoes and heading for the front door. Clarke could barely keep up. "Clarke, I'm going to steal your body."

He got an earful before he even made his way to the car. "You can't do this, Bellamy. It won't work!"

"I think I can, and I think it will."

"Just think it through -"

"I have."

"You'll go to prison."

He stopped next to the door to his truck, keys dangling in his hand, and turned to her. "Do you think I care? If you die, do you think I care what happens?"

"Well, you can't pull it off by yourself -"

"I won't be by myself."

"A ghost doesn't count."

"I'm not talking about you," he said, giving her a shit-eating grin and then climbing into the front seat.

 **-::-::-::-::-::-::-**

It just so happened that Miller had a van and owed Bellamy a favor. And maybe he didn't tell Miller the specifics of the trip, but that didn't mean he wouldn't be able to help Bellamy out. Right? Clarke didn't really agree with that. But he was waiting at the hospital when Bellamy got there. Thirty minutes until noon.

When he broke into the supply closet, however, Bellamy was starting to think he should have rang up Murphy instead. At least Murphy didn't have any morals. Bellamy's phony story of there being a sale on hospital supplies fell through once Miller saw Bellamy stealing a portable ventilator and a blood pressure cuff.

"Whoa, dude, you can't steal this shit! What the hell are you doing?"

"I don't have time to explain."

"If you want my help, you can make time."

Bellamy scratched the back of his head. He could practically feel Clarke's I-told-you-so look boring into him. "Remember the ghost girl I told you about? Well, she's not dead, she's in a coma one floor above us and they're ending life support today so we have to get her someplace safe."

"...Really?"

"You should've told him sooner," Clarke said.

"He wouldn't have believed me."

"Does he believe you now?"

"You know what? You're not helping."

"Bellamy, stop!" Miller said, rubbing a hand over his face. "We're already at the hospital, let's just go up to the psych ward and talk. Just talk, okay? I'm worried about you."

"No, Miller - she'll be dead in half an hour! We're out of time. She's right behind you, just, do something with your hands. She'll tell me what it is, okay?"

Miller looked skeptical, but he made a motion. Clarke snorted. "Real classy."  
"What?"

"He flipped me off."  
"Miller, did you flip her off?"

"Now, he's spelling out your name in sign language," Clarke said.

"I didn't know you knew sign language," Bellamy replied, to both Miller and Clarke. They were all quiet for a beat. Miller looked a little pale.

"I still don't believe you. But if I did, if I helped you… Do you know what you're risking here?"

Bellamy shut his eyes. Now or never, it was all on the line. "Yeah. I do. I love her." It was surprisingly easy to say. And it was the only thing that made sense in this fucked up situation. He looked at Clarke, met her eyes, and said it again so she'd know he wasn't lying. "I do. I love you."

"No one's ever said that to me before," she whispered. She didn't have to say it back. He knew.

Miller groaned. "I can't believe I'm doing this."

 **-::-::-::-::-::-::-**

Clarke told Bellamy where to find white jackets and a gurney. For the first time, she let herself have hope - maybe she'd come out of this. Maybe she'd be able to touch Bellamy soon, really touch him. But Miller paused when he saw her on the hospital bed. "Wait, this is her?"

"Yeah, I know, she's pretty, but we're kind of on a deadline here."

"No, I mean, this is the girl you stood up that night. The one I set you up with."

"What are you talking about?"

Clarke paused for a minute. Eyebrows furrowed. Bellamy was her blind date? Her stupid blind date that she didn't want to go on.

"Yeah, and then she got into an accident on the way so she didn't show either. I told you this, Bell. She's friends with Zeke's girlfriend, Raven. We went to college together."

Everything was getting blurry and confusing and she was starting to think Bellamy had a point about all the coincidences surrounding them. But hopefully there'd be time to talk about this. If they didn't get going, there wouldn't be.

And then, as if this couldn't get any trickier, Finn fucking Collins' voice sounded outside the door. "As soon as her mom comes, we're ready."

"Shit," Bellamy said. "He's fifteen minutes early."

"Go," Miller said, "Get rid of him. I've got Clarke."

"Tell him you're a doctor," Clarke said. Bellamy looked vaguely panicked. He wasn't particularly good at lying. "Just - say you're a consultant from Pack Medical and you're here to evaluate the patient." He repeated her words. Finn quirked his eyebrow. "Tell him Dr. Jaha has the papers with your team downstairs."

"Really? I didn't have any verbal confirmation of this," Finn said, unhelpfully.

"Go ask Dr. Jaha," Bellamy offered.

"It's fine," Finn said. "I'll just call him." Before Clarke could do anything to stop it, Bellamy's hand was rearing back, and then colliding with Finn's nose and Miller was rushing Clarke's body down the hallway. She caught a glimpse of her mom just before they turned the corner.

Clarke shook her head at Bellamy in amazement. He shrugged. "I'm not believable as a doctor. Plus, that guy's a huge asshole. Let's go."

Behind them, Clarke could hear Finn saying into the phone, "I need security on the third floor!"

As if he willed it into existence, a security guard turned the corner at the opposite end of the hallway. Everything was happening at once. Bellamy looked to her. "It's now or never, princess. Miller, you got us?"

"On it." The security guard came barreling down towards them, nearly reaching them, taking a dive for the gurney, but Miller was quicker and he full-body tackled the security guard into the elevator, frantically pressing door shut. He realized that he'd taken the portable ventilator with him a moment too late.

And then Bellamy and Clarke were surrounded on all sides.

 **-::-::-::-::-::-::-**

In a hospital hallway at the end of everything, what was there to do? Her body was growing pale, and Clarke was fading. Everything was temporary. "Bellamy, my breathing tube."

"What?" Everything ended. "No. No, this can't be happening. What do I do? Clarke, what do I do?"

"Nothing," she said. Her voice was a whisper. It sounded like a gust of wind. "I'm sorry."

"Be stronger. Stay with me." Eventually, everything good turned to dust.

"Bellamy," she whispered, just as the machine started flatlining. He shook his head. This wasn't happening, not after everything. He pressed his mouth to hers, giving her his breath, his air. He'd give her his life if he could.

And then he was being pulled away, arms wrapped tightly around his waist, voices calling for a sedative. He had to watch her fade away, his name on her lips sounding like a breath. Everything had its time.

And then she was gone. She was gone, and her body was lifeless and he was straining against the guards with all his might. Her mother was there too, watching him.

But all Bellamy could see was the girl he loved lying still on a gurney. "Help her!" he screamed. "Help her, please help her!" They pulled at him, but he broke his arm free. "Clarke - no - _Clarke!_ "

He was met with nothing but silence.

 **-::-::-::-::-::-::-**

And then, there was a beep. "What's going on?" Abby said. The grips on Bellamy's arms loosened.

"That's not possible," Finn said from behind him, still clutching at his bloody nose. "That's not - what?"

When Clarke started to cough, Bellamy swore he'd never heard a more beautiful sound. Her mother was crying, at the side of the gurney instantly. "Clarke?" The security guards had dropped his arms, but he was frozen. "Oh god," Abby said, "I can't believe I almost let them -"

"Mom?" Her voice. God, her voice was back. The sound of it made Bellamy become unstuck. He knew his face was a mess of tears, but he took a few timid steps toward her anyway. "My head hurts," she mumbled.

"Clarke?" he said, his voice barely anything. She blinked up at him, weakly. "Hey," he said, smiling, feeling a few tears roll down his face and drip off the tip of his nose.

"Hello," she whispered.

"We did it."

She shook her head, furrowing her eyebrows. "I'm sorry, we - I don't - Mom? Who is this?"

Abby looked up, worried. "You don't remember Bellamy?"

His insides seized. He wanted to reach out and touch her but she suddenly looked afraid of him. "The rooftop," he tried. She shook her head. "The apartment. You don't -"

She looked even more scared now. That wasn't what he wanted. He'd wanted her to be alive and happy. But there was a part of him that had wanted her to love him back. He thought that maybe she did. But that hope might as well be a dream now.

"Sorry," he murmured, falling back. The sea of doctors and security guards and people from the waiting room that had crowded around to watch the show had fallen silent. When Bellamy headed for the door, they wordlessly parted to let him leave.

Abby started hugging Clarke, crying still. But when Bellamy looked behind him for one final look at the person he knew so well, the person who didn't know him at all, she was watching him go.

 **-::-::-::-::-::-::-**

The next week was confusing for Clarke. She spent a few days in the hospital, but the doctors didn't know how to explain it. She had regained full functionality of all her extremities. It was as if the accident hadn't happened at all. Every other memory of hers was intact. It was just the tall, handsome man from the other day who was a stranger to her.

They'd been subletting her apartment so she was staying with her mom while waiting for the person to move out. She finally went inside that restaurant she'd been meaning to eat at since forever, Polis. But she was hit with a sense of loss so strong and so sudden in the middle of her meal that she had to excuse herself. When she sat down at the bench at her favorite park, she felt the same.

Ever since she woke up, something wasn't right. Like something was taken from her. She felt lonely, and aching. Everything was so cold. Her mom reassured her that she'd feel better once she moved back in, and she hoped that was true. But that didn't explain the deja vu she'd get every other hour. Or the weird shopkeeper from that mystical bookstore near her apartment giving her a grin and a thumbs up and punching the air as she passed by.

 **-::-::-::-::-::-::-**

It was a sad kind of funny knowing that Clarke would be showing up soon and he'd be long gone. He had reset everything to as it was before, spending the whole week scrupulously cleaning, making sure she'd be satisfied with the upkeep. And for what? For a ghost. But she hadn't just been that. She had brought him back to life.

Bellamy knew by now that sorrow didn't come from nowhere. Most of the time, it came from love. What a terrible and wonderful thing to have something to lose. Even now, with his heart heavier than he'd ever remembered it being, he didn't regret falling for her. He could never regret that. But he knew that he'd never fall for anyone again, either. She was it for him.

And now he was nothing to her. Funny how things turned out that way. And by funny, he meant not funny at all.

 **-::-::-::-::-::-::-**

Clarke was hit with the familiar smell of her apartment. It felt so good to be home. The sunlight was shining yellow slants onto the floorboards. She thought she'd have missed it more, but weirdly, she didn't feel like she'd been gone too long. Something didn't look right, though.

"How long did you say you rented it?" she asked her mom.

"Only a month."

"Did they move something? I don't know, it just feels like…" Clarke frowned. "It feels like something's missing."

 **-::-::-::-::-::-::-**

Bellamy was just finishing up when Clarke came to the rooftop. Their rooftop. Hers now. She looked pretty. No slinky red dress this time. Just some soft curls and a white cardigan. There was color in her cheeks and her chest was rising up and down. Her footsteps held weight in them. Maybe it was comfort enough just to know she was here, alive in the world.

But he was glad he got to see the wonder in her eyes when she saw the garden he'd built for her. Eventually, she noticed him, standing sheepishly near the ledge. "Sorry," he said. "I just… knew someone who always wanted a garden up here."

"How did you get up here?" she asked. Of course. Clarke Griffin, always wanting an explanation.

"Spare key under the fire extinguisher," he said, smiling, half hoping to trigger some memory of their time together. But she still looked unsure of him. "Hey, the last thing I want to do is scare you, okay? I just wanted to give you this." He took a deep breath, swallowed hard, knowing that this was the right thing to do. "Goodbye, princess."

He was halfway to the door before she stopped him. Was it naive of him to hope that she'd suddenly remembered everything? But no, she just asked for the key back. The way she was looking at him, though, didn't seem as foreign as it had in the hospital.

He reached out his hand, the key dangling in his fingertips. Clarke shook her head, keeping her hand at her side. "How do I know you?"

Bellamy said nothing, just pressed the key into her palm. She had cold hands, but they were soft. He was so happy to finally touch her, even for just a moment. But when he started to pull away, she was clutching at him.

"Bellamy."

 **-::-::-::-::-::-::-**

It was one touch that unlocked everything. The rooftop, the coasters, the bench in the park, the restaurant, the hospital, Miller, Jasper, even the image of Bellamy punching Finn in the face. She was glad to have that memory back, actually. But it all returned. This man she loved so much, who had helped her live more in the weeks she was a ghost than she ever had when she was actually alive.

She needed him close, now, now that she could touch him, now that she knew he had warm hands. The last time he'd kissed her, she was dying. But here she was on this beautiful rooftop above their apartment - because it _was_ their apartment - and he was kissing her again. There would be a lot to figure out. With them, she doubted things would ever be easy. But she'd worry about that later. Because right now, with his soft lips pressed against hers, Clarke knew she was taking the first step to really and truly living.


End file.
